A Paler Shade of Fame
by stickers95
Summary: with your worst nightmare coming true, nothing will be as it used to be... sequel to "the nature of fear", translation, rating for language, violence, sexual references
1. preface

"It's just an empty cup," Doc Hudson had told him, but now this didn't seem to be true anymore. Now, it looked much more like Pandora's Box.

_- - -_

"_It's our choices that show what we truly are,  
far more than our abilities..."_

_- - -_

Albus Brian Wulfric Dumbledore, in "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets"

**Disclaimer:**  
"Cars" and the "Cars" characters are owned by Disney/Pixar. I only own the additional characters and the plot. This is a fan fiction story and not subject to any commercial use.

**Author's note:**  
This might take a while to finish. I'm just somewhere near the middle of the story...


	2. prologue

**Prologue**

Again, Sally looked at the bassinet and smiled.  
The little red race car seemed to be asleep now, or at least dozing away, content and satisfied now that she had been fed.  
If anybody could see her right now, she thought, sweet as a little angel, he wouldn't believe how mad she could get, and, even more, how loud she could cry…

Carefully, she picked up the feeding bottle and closed the door behind her.  
Thanks God it had been that easy this time… She was tired and glad to get a few hours of sleep.  
Quietly and very slowly, she moved to their sleeping room, trying not to wake Lightning.

He was still asleep, she noticed, Sarah's crying did not wake him. His front rose and sank steadily with every breath he took, and she stopped to look at him, her eyes following the glossy red shape of his body.  
She swallowed hard.  
Their day had been long and wary. He looked exhausted, but relaxed – his expression was peaceful, and he didn't move his tires in restless dreams as he often did after a race.  
She watched him for a while, before she turned around and parked at his side, cuddling up to him tenderly.  
He gave a deep, low kind of grumble, but he didn't wake up.  
Tired, she closed her eyes.  
His breath was regular as a clockwork, even as he shifted his weight slightly, now leaning against her – as if he had noticed in his sleep that she was there again.  
"I love you," she whispered into the darkness, glad to feel the warmth of his body. "I love you, and I need you…"  
The rhythm of his breathing hardly had changed, and she swallowed again.  
"…This is so dangerous," she went on in a low voice. "Light, I don't wanna lose you…"


	3. paradise

**Paradise**  
(one year before…)

The employee behind the counter of the Manu Palekaiko(1) Mountain & Beach Resort, a Kia Cee'd, stared at him in disbelief, his eyes widening the moment he recognized him. "But – but this can't be…"  
He didn't get any further, because the red race car in front of him now wore a clandestine smile, looking at him directly.  
"Please…" Lightning began in a low voice, "we would like to stay _incognito_…"  
"Of course, Mr. McQueen." And as the Kia backed away, desperately trying to find the chip card that represented the door lock, Lightning turned around towards Sally who had parked a few meters away in the Foyer, waiting for him patiently.  
The Kia threw a quick glance in his direction, obviously feeling somewhat uneasy, but then his gaze fell on the light blue Porsche, and now the disbelief in his eyes was replaced by an expression of admiration that made the race car smile again.  
He managed to focused again on the client in front of him. "Your suite is located on the second floor," he addressed Lightning, his voice still shaking. "If you'd like to follow me, Sir, please…"

The open door gave way to a spacious suite. As far as Sally could see from here, there were three rooms altogether, furnished in a quite modern, somewhat minimalistic way; with huge windows reaching from floor to ceiling, replacing at least two of each room's walls and leading to a wide terrace or balcony that offered a breathtaking view onto the beach and the sea down below.  
She stopped and looked around in awe. In her life as an attorney, she often had encountered upper-class environments, thus being quite used to luxurious apartments and prestigious office rooms. But these quarters in front of her seemed to exceed everything she'd known so far – this suite was just amazing.  
"May I…?" Lightning who stood behind her, looked at her, indicating that he would like to shove her over the threshold.  
She nodded happily.

Two hours later, when they somewhat had settled down and unpacked their luggage, Lightning stood at the railings of the balcony, deep in thoughts and staring into the sinking sun. Sally still was in the bathroom... Later this evening, they wanted to pay a short visit to the restaurant on the ground floor.  
Deep down below, the waves constantly rushed to the shore, again and again, and he could hear them even this far away.  
He smiled, taking a deep breath of the warm, salty air.  
This is how it should be, he thought, this was exactly how he imagined…

He was exceptionally pleased with himself, pleased with the way things had developed so far. And until now he felt as if he was living in a dream… and he wished to never wake up again.  
The ceremony this morning had been short but very touching, and only their closest friends, i. e. entire Radiator Springs, had been attending. No press, just friends and a single photographer, this was what he had made Harv promise after several hours of dire bargaining and pleading.  
Sally had been tremendously good-looking – even better as usually, her dark green eyes fixed upon him all the time, thus making him feel dizzy and overjoyed at the same time. Extremely happy, that was how she had looked like – as happy as he felt himself.  
He closed his eyes.

A low voice dragged him back into reality.  
"Light…?"  
There she stood, a few meters away from him, strikingly beautiful…  
He felt his oil pressure rise.  
The light of the dying sun cast red and golden reflections onto her body, thus making her paint shine like a diamond. At her left rear mirror, she wore a single flower.  
Slowly he turned towards her.  
„You're taking me with you, the way I look now...?" she asked him shyly.  
He stopped right in front of her. Every single stroke of his engine now seemed to rush right through his entire frame and bodywork, thus making him shiver inside.  
„Yeah", he answered in a low voice and bent forward to kiss her. "Wherever you want to..."  
His voice trailed off, as he nudged her fender tenderly.  
"I love you, Sally McQueen," he whispered.  
Again, she had this kind of dark, seductive look in her eyes, as she answered „And I love you, Lightning McQueen..."  
Everything around him suddenly wasn't important to him anymore. Here she was, standing in front of him, and he longed for her, wanted her, here, now, and nothing else.  
„To be honest – I'm not hungry anymore," he began, surprised by the strange deep sound of his voice.  
Her eyes were fixed on him in anticipation, and what he could read there seemed to be too good to be true. "Me, too," she answered a little breathless, making his engine miss a stroke.  
He closed his eyes and kissed her again. "Come on…" he whispered impatiently.  
So she had followed him to the inside, not taking her eyes off him, and their dinner got delayed to satisfy a hunger of different kind.

At the same time, many hundred miles away in one of the bigger cities at the west coast, a meeting of an investor's group was held, with participants from all over the country – for example, financial experts from a well-known bank holding, real estate specialists and prospectors of a well-known mineral oil company as well as other representatives of the major institutions and enterprises of the region.  
The members of this "Task Force Project Development" were known to each other, even though their cooperation – for certain reasons – wasn't mentioned in the public at any time, and for the same delicate reasons, the place and time of their meeting was communicated to them only shortly before.  
In the small meeting room on the 57th floor, with view onto the city lights down below, the atmosphere had grown tense.

The speaker clicked on the next slide.  
"As you can see, Ladies and Gentlecars, the situation has changed significantly during the last few months… Did this area represent something like the middle of nowhere just one year ago, we now do encounter a growing history awareness with which we will have to deal with in the future," he said and clicked for the next slide. The picture on the screen now showed a place name sign, accompanied by another sign on which, within a white shield-shaped form, the letters "Historic Route 66" were printed in black.  
"Regarding our project, couldn't it be helpful to be connected to the Historic Route 66?" a voice from the audience asked.  
"Well – somehow, yes, indeed, but on the other hand…"  
The speaker's voice trailed off. He pointed to he next slide which showed the development of real estate prices in a special area of Carburetor County: Having started quite well below the average, the graph's thick red line had bent sharply, only to turn into a constant rise. On the next slide, a comparison with other parts of the country, the participants could see that it now had surpassed even the price levels of medium-sized cities, and the forecasts did not seem to predict any end to this upwards trend.  
"The real estate prices around Radiator Springs have increased tremendously," he explained the obvious, "and even though this development still has been somewhat moderate within the last six months, we cannot just sit back and relax. The main reason for this upwards trend seems to be the increasing number of tourists, of visitors – regarding the Radiator Springs Racing Museum as well as the Historic Route 66…"  
Click.  
"…and, of course, the sights nearby…"  
The photo on the next slide showed a spectacular mountain range, composed of red rocks that arched over a narrow street, whereas the following slide revealed a sleek, towering bridge in front of a waterfall – merely one kilometre away from the spot of the last picture.  
Silence fell.  
The participant's reaction was more than obvious…  
„Ladies and Gentlecars," the speaker went on. "This little paradise seemed to be within our reach not long ago. But the development of the last few months now points towards a different direction. So – what do you think, how shall we proceed?"

- - -

(1) manu palekaiko – bird-of-paradise flower (Hawaiian)

- - -

_so this is the real first chapter, folks. read and despair… ;-) and please gimme lots of comments…!_


	4. fifty yards too short

**Fifty Yards Too Short**  
(present time)

The air was vibrating – as if charged electrically.  
Or was there a kind of rhythm – a deep, echoing stomping, from thousands of tyres?  
He could also hear the frenetic shouting and cheering – voices from thousands of metallic throats, surging like a gigantic wave – ecstatic, thrilling shouts and cries that wiped out all his other perceptions...  
All but one.

There it was, the finishing line, waiting for him.  
He would only need to cross it, then he'd done it again – he was just one lap away from victory…

He could see the others.  
Chick Hicks was second, but now he was lagging behind so much that he wouldn't be able to catch up – never ever, he thought for one moment, satisfied, and only after him there was the rest of the field.  
Way behind.  
No threat, not now.  
Not Chick.  
Just one winner. One winner and fourty-two losers…

Focus, he reminded himself. Stay focused and don't make any mistakes now…

As he had been thinking about that, he already had made half the way of the straight line, now reaching the reference point in front of the last bend, and he turned left automatically without even wasting a single thought.  
Within seconds, he had passed the vertex, heading for the bend's exit.

He could feel his own speed now – the excitement to be faster than all the others, while he was accelerating again, focusing on the finishing line now…  
He felt like being drunk and sober at the same time, his V8 engine thundering, his whole body vibrating in a tremendous effort, his vision blurring…  
He nearly had made it…

– eight hundred yards –

– five hundred yards –

– hundred –

A stabbing pain rushed through his body, pierced his mind.

And before he could realize what was going on, he already seemed to be thrown into the air, next the asphalt came approaching him with unbelievable speed…

While he was still wondering, he hit the ground upside down and turned over a few times before he came to a halt, but he didn't notice that anymore, because there was darkness and nothing more.

- - -

"NO…!!!"

Later he would remember Sally's outcry as so painful and disturbing that it nearly made him sick, although the light blue Porsche seemed to be petrified at the same time.  
Sally didn't notice anything around her – not Chick, now crossing the finishing line, not the commotion and noises arising from the stands. In a first attempt, she had tried to break through the fences and get to the place of the accident, but being held back by the security, she had remained here, directly in front of the fences, motionless, silent.

Doc Hudson still was shocked, a kind of nausea crept through his components, and he looked at her in sympathy – he could perfectly understand what she must be feeling right now…  
Slowly he pulled off his earphones and stepped off the platform.  
"Sally…?"  
She still didn't move, her eyes fixed on the cordon where now several paramedics and a transporter truck were operating, their yellow lights flashing.  
"Sally…" he repeated in a croaky voice. "Come on, girl…"  
Very slowly, she turned around and looked at him.

- - -

Walls and floor were paved with pale green tiles, just like in Doc's treatment room, she noticed, and as she looked around, she didn't like it. Maybe it was the strange, contradictory atmosphere – the air of sterility with its faint scent of cleaners on the one side, and then the strong smell of oil and soldering iron that nearly dazed all her senses.

With a hissing noise, the automatic door closed behind her.  
Doc Hudson who had entered the room before her was already talking to one of the technicians, so that she was left alone with her own thoughts.  
Her eyes fell on the hydraulic hoist in the center, lowered to the ground, with a red vehicle placed on it that was looking so badly damaged that it seemed to be more wreck-like than alive, and she swallowed hard.  
He looked even worse than she had imagined…

Slowly she approached, and, much to her relief, nobody seemed to object.  
Lightning didn't move. She couldn't detect any signs that he was awake and conscious, nor did he show any kind of reaction.  
Did he notice anything at all…?

"Light…?" she asked in a low voice.  
He remained silent.  
"Light – please…"  
Nothing.  
Was he – ?  
No, that could not be… She tried not to think of _that_, to get rid of the fear and despair that immediately had rushed through her body, but she didn't succeed. Looking at him made her feel worse, while the lump within her throat grew bigger.  
She could hardly breathe anymore.  
Calm down, she told herself.  
He'll be o.k…

After a while, she started moving around the hoist.

His right and left side seemed to be damaged severely, as well as his roof.  
At his left side, the major parts and pieces of his bodyshell were already taken away and lined up against the wall – nearly all of them dented or even broken, since they were mostly made of carbon fiber and only to a small extent of sheet metal.  
She swallowed hard again.

A technician – or was he a doctor? – a white Toyota, now was leaning forward as far as he could, accidently lifting one of his hind wheels off the floor as he was working on Lightning's inner parts, and all Sally could see was a smear-covered mess made up of lots of cables, hoses and strange-looking metal parts, some of them connected to some kind of diagnosis device.  
Cables?  
Maybe that was the reason that he didn't react…

She stopped right beneath the Toyota.  
He neither did mind her presence nor did he tell her to leave – something that made her even feel worse, because it felt so strange in her eyes. But after a few minutes, maybe on noticing that he had an audience now, he started explaining while still poking around with his endoscope in the components in front of him.

"As you can see," he began, "…the damage on the inside seems to be as bad as the damage outside. This is weird." He paused, as if in thoughts. "…Hmm… looks as if some component of the powertrain, probably the transmission, seems to have failed…"  
Sally didn't like what she saw.  
Bending away a bunch of cables to allow for a better sight, he went on: "This would explain a lot… Because of the immense speed, the drive casing would be torn into pieces the very moment it jammed. Yeah, I guess it must have been the transmission that suddenly blocked, and everything connected to it got blown apart. And so…" He again paused. "Moving stops suddenly, traction's gone, and where goes all the power…?"  
Sally didn't answer. She felt quite sick now.

"Ma'am…?"  
The Toyota had put away his camera probe and looked at her now. "Are you all right?"  
But Sally couldn't answer.  
"If you don't feel well – well, this is quite normal and will cease after a while..."

Desperately trying to fight her tears, Sally turned away, hoping to regain control over her emotions.  
Then she suddenly heard the Toyota's voice right beside her. "Everything will be o.k, Ma'am. We can fix your husband, that's for sure. It only will take some time…"  
She tried to blink away the tears in her eyes. "Thanks," she replied in a flat voice. "When… when can I come and visit him…?"  
"Whenever you like, Ma'am."  
Sally nodded.

The door slid open immediately as she approached, and she drove right through it and into the corridor, where she turned to the right. But after a few meters she stopped abruptly. Tears were again filling her eyes, and although she knew that she wasn't alone, she slumped back on her axles and silently started crying.

"Come on, girl, don't you cry," she heard a well-known voice say, and at the same time she felt a soft pat on her fender. "Lightning's tough. He's gonna make it, no doubt."  
As she looked up, her eyes, brimmed with tears, met those of Doc Hudson. But despite his encouraging words, the 1951 Hudson Hornet looked rather worried.  
"Doc – he doesn't answer…" she sobbed.  
"Well, of course he can't – not at the moment."

Doc Hudson sighed. The old race car for a moment felt somewhat helpless.  
"Come on, girl, let's go back to the hotel. Tomorrow, we will know more."  
After a while, Sally nodded very slowly. "Yeah… maybe you're right.  
She threw a last glance into the direction where the treatment room was, then she turned around and followed him to the exit.

- - -

_this chapter was really hard to translate… dunno whether i got everything right, some phrases still sound clumsy in my ears. i hope you get the feeling, nevertheless…  
next chapter will be a short one, short and nasty._


	5. of plans and purposes

**Of Plans and Purposes**

In an office somewhere on the west coast, many miles away, a secretary, a sleek Chevrolet Coupé, handed over a selection of newspapers to the huge dark-silver Cadillac who looked at her from the opposite side of his desk.  
The desk's giant tabletop was made of a selection of finest woods, its surface polished so highly that it reflected the papers laid out in order now, but the Cadillac didn't notice. His eyes quickly glanced over the headlines instead, while his secretary quietly withdrew, closing the door behind her.

On digesting the news, his eyes narrowed in disapproval, and he picked up the phone.

The voice at the other end of the line could have been recognized easily – by anybody who had been attending – as that of the unknown speaker at that secret meeting held a couple of weeks before. The Cadillac had been there, indeed, and so he knew the vehicle personally he now was talking to.

"Bryan?"  
"Yes…?"  
"I just had a quick glance at the papers. Your folks should not have killed him. We explicitly agreed on using no violence…"  
But he didn't get any further, as Bryan's voice now broke in. "They did not kill him, George," he replied in a calm tone.  
"But nearly," the Cadillac growled. "You –"  
"Let me give you the correct information," the vehicle called "Bryan" interrupted him again. "And let me put it that way – McQueen suffered an accident. An accident of the kind which is common on race tracks. An accident that will remind him of the dangers, of the risks he puts his life at, day by day…"  
"These guys are only half as dumb as they look, Bryan. They will find out that it was no accident."  
Bryan chuckled. "Of course they will."  
The Cadillac sighed. "And I guess that during the investigation, nothing will be found, there will be no evidence pointing into your direction. There will no conclusions be made, because you've also arranged for that…?"  
"Every clue will point into a totally different direction," Bryan said. "George – I know what you and your friends are expecting of me."  
"And that would be…?"  
"An extremist guy for example, a loner – a desperate, sick vehicle with a weak personality and a strong resent for the noble sports."  
"Any alternatives?"  
"Plenty of them."  
"To be honest… I still don't like _that_ part of the plan," the Cadillac muttered.  
"It all comes natural," the voice of Bryan answered calmly. "The sports business is a nasty business, and it's never been fair. You know – fame attracts trouble..."  
The Cadillac sighed.

After finishing the call, he stared on his papers again, deep in thoughts.  
"Yes, you know what we're expecting," he muttered after a short while of silence. "You think you know… but it's guess-work, nevertheless," he added, taking a deep breath.  
Then he turned sideways towards a glass-covered table crowned with an architectural model – a tiny white version of mountains, gorges, plains and a little village as well, surrounded by Styrofoam rocks, all built neatly and fit together in a park-like area with recreational grounds, halls, cultural center and a shopping mall. This model had been created by a well-known firm of architects, actually one of the most renowned in this part of the country – no wonder they had won the competition easily. Their interest in this project had been strong from the very first moment on, maybe because his cousin Al happened to be the owner, and maybe this was why he had preferred them over all other contestants...  
He smiled.

It was a little artificial world of its own, strange in its pale, colourless whiteness but nevertheless bearing a strong resemblance towards a series of aerial photos, lined up in a folder lying nearby.  
"_Ornament Valley Park"_, its title read, and as he grabbed it and opened it, his eyes began to wander up and down, comparing the pictures with the corresponding areas in the model and lingering on the additional buildings.  
After a while, he picked up the phone again.

- - -

_so much for now. the next chapter, "insights", will be longer... _


	6. insights

**Insights**

A few hours later, the Toyota let out a cry of excitement.  
Carefully, he moved the endoscope to get a better picture, slowly zooming in on what he just had discovered within the oily mess in front of him, adjusting the picture for brightness and contrast, and then he activated the attached recorder's memory function to save it.  
Again, he checked the endoscope camera position , then he called his colleagues.

As soon as the other cars had gathered around him, he turned around and pointed towards the monitor.  
"Could anybody please tell me what we can see here?"  
All eyes were now focused on the monitor, and the head doctor, a Pontiac with white paint, slowly moved forward a few meters to get a better view. His eyes widened in disbelief.

The picture on the monitor showed several dented and ruptured metal parts which doubtlessly could be identified as the remnants of the gearbox, amidst a smeary, oily mess - lots of broken metal parts as well as the parts of the gearwheels. The three shafts had been torn out of their bearing, two of them being deformed in a most peculiar way, and obviously had been driven into the casing hull. And exactly where the third gear shaft touched the casing, there was a kind of strange bronze-golden shimmer.  
The Pontiac drew closer.  
"Well, I'm no expert in ballistics, but as far as I can see, there seems to be a bullet sticking in the gearbox casing."  
"A bullet...?"  
"A bullet. _Projectile_. Eleven millimetres, twenty-two - who knows..." He threw a quick glance in the Toyota's direction and smiled. "Well done, Grayson. But with these findings, our part ends here - right now. Someone's clearly after our patient's life, so this isn't up to us anymore. It's become a case for the specialists." He paused and took a deep breath, still wondering about what was going on here. "This is madness..." At least he turned around, addressing his colleagues again. "We'll need to inform the authorities," he added, "so leave everything as it is and, above all, don't touch anything. Just look after our patient, Grayson, that's it for now. The forensic guys will do the rest."

As Lightning woke up, the forensic team was just leaving. But all he noticed were blurred silhouettes, muffled sounds, poor imitations of the noises the vehicles made as they all - one after another - filed out through the automatic door while they were still talking, and when they were gone, it was quiet and peaceful again, and the sudden silence echoed in his mind like a surreal reflection of something he couldn't understand.  
The brightness made him blink.

He felt sick and numb at the same time and tried to think clearly, but his thoughts were slow...  
The room he was in was paved with light green tiles. And somewhere in the background, there were suddenly voices again, professional but hushed voices, incredibly low, exchanging a few brief words.  
Judging by his field of view, he seemed to be placed on a hydraulic hoist, and he couldn't move - he felt stiff and sore, as if he had been hit by a truck, or as if somebody had rummaged his innards with a blowtorch.  
And as his sensations came back, bit by bit, also his memory rushed in on him again, piercing his thoughts with dazzling colours and shrill sounds...

The race.  
The finishing line.  
The sensation to be there, to have made it before all the others could...

Stop - then he wouldn't be here.  
There it was again, this stinging pain that had turned the asphalt into a whirling vortex, approaching him with unbelievable speed -

Time-out.  
Cut.  
He had failed.

He didn't made it - he had failed, within close reach of the chequered flag -  
He felt miserable.  
Realizing his failure, disappointment took over, weighing heavy on his mind, and his entire body seemed to ache...  
Slowly, he took a deep breath.

Somebody must to have heard him, because now a white Toyota with a doctor's sign sticking on both his doors showed up. At the same time, somebody else, probably in the background, must have activated the hoist, because he suddenly noticed a faint vibration – both the platform on which he stood as well as his field of view began to move downwards. He was sinking slowly but steadily.  
Immediately he hated being helpless as much as he hated being here.

"Welcome among the living, Mr. McQueen… How do you feel?"  
The hoist nearly had reached its end position, and now he could look into the Toyota's eyes. They were of a deep dark brown colour, focusing on him with an expression of professional curiosity and mild interest.  
"...where am I?" he wanted to say, but he barely managed to produce a single sound - his voice was hoarse and croaky, and his throat felt sore.  
The hoist came to a sudden halt, now being in an even position with the floor, and its engine died.  
The Toyota's eyes were fixed on him with a certain kind of amusement, although he seemed to be calm and austere. "After such an accident," he said in a reassuring voice, "this is quite normal. Your voice will recover as well as the rest of you. Let me say – one, two weeks, and you'll be back on the race track."  
Good to know, Lightning thought. He cleared his throat, and this time he succeeded in speaking, although he sounded somehow strange – maybe because of the cables and hoses to which he seemed to be wired and which had been squeezed under his hood.  
"What has happened – and what are you doing with me?"  
"Tomorrow you'll get a new gearbox," Grayson answered. "For any details, Dr. Markham will be happy to fill you in. And as for the rest – well, at least I could say you've been lucky. You've been shot by someone, and because of the impact, your gearbox jammed. Do this at the enormous speed which is common on race tracks, and you'll know why you're here…"  
He pointed at an oily heap of scrap placed on a lab trolley in the background.  
Alarmed, Lightning looked down at himself, having entirely forgotten that this attempt was fruitless since he couldn't move.  
His gearbox - broken... a lot of parts removed... No wonder he felt so bad.

And then, one by one, Grayson's words started to sink in.  
"Shot – me?" he asked, still not believing what he just had been told.  
"The forensic guys just left," Grayson explained. "Tomorrow the investigations will go on, so it's gonna be a hard day – for all of us, but especially for you. You should try to sleep."  
Lightning had lost any record of time, and since the room didn't have any windows, being lit only by bright artificial lights, he didn't had any chance to compensate for this.  
The Toyota turned around. "To your right side, there is a radio connection which can be activated by voice – at least, you can't move." He rolled forward a few meters to switch on the device. "Whenever you need something – just let us know."  
He gave him a short nod, then he left.

Lightning could hear the other invisible cars somewhere in the background leave, too, then the automatic doors hissed for a last time, and he was alone.  
Shot…  
He had been shot… He still couldn't believe it.  
…Who wanted to kill him?  
Or just throw him out of the race?  
Who the fuck would do this – Chick perhaps?  
Well, Chick Murphy being behind this plot seemed to be too far-fetched to him, but then again, maybe he was wrong… and thinking of that didn't make him feel any better.  
On the contrary – he felt his anger and despair rise again, seeping into his mind, taking over his thoughts, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

The lights had been left on, and their brightness didn't make the austere atmosphere of the treatment room look any friendlier – it seemed to be cold, barren and empty, although it was crammed with medical devices.  
He swallowed hard.  
Here he was, unable to move, and he was alone.  
Helpless.

He missed Sally, and thinking of her made the lump in his throat grow bigger.  
He felt as miserable as he never had felt before.

* * *

_Oomph. Hope I got all the technical terms correctly..._


	7. discoveries

**Discoveries**

While Ramone still was in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, Flo took the chance to look after Sarah.  
Slowly she drove up the corridor until she stopped in front of their spare room, now Sarah's sleeping room.  
Very carefully she opened the door.  
The little light that fell through the space between frame and door was enough to show that everything was o.k. and Sarah McQueen still in dream land. Cuddled up to her plush truck, she was sleeping the sleep of the just…  
Flo didn't dare to wake her, so she remained where she was, silently watching her.

She looked so much like her father, she thought… Model, chassis and colour of her paint were the spitting image of Lightning, and it was only her green eyes she'd got from her mother. Her stubbornness, too, Sally had added once.  
Flo smiled.

A moment later, she felt a soft touch at her right flank.  
Ramone had followed her quietly and now was standing behind her.  
"Is she still asleep, _mi amor_?"  
Instead of an answer, Flo opened the door a little wider to allow for a better view.

Ramone smiled, too, as he watched her for a while, deeply lost in thought, and his smile was accompanied by the tiniest touch of sadness… Finally, he broke away from his daydreams and forced himself to think of something different. Taking a deep breath, he shifted into reverse gear, while his wife was closing the door again.  
"Does she already know…?"  
Flo shook her hood. "No. Sally didn't want me to tell her." She looked at her husband. "Maybe it's better this way. Are there any news...?"  
"Not really." Ramone's voice became serious again as he tried to recall the information he'd just read before. "There's a statement from the Racing Authority, telling just the obvious – that this accident shouldn't have happened, that the circumstances which led to it are still unclear, and so on. _Disparate, generalmente_. And then they write that they're about to check the security measures in the stadiums and on the race tracks."  
Flo looked at him in disbelief. "A little late, isn't it?"  
"By all means – in my opinion, this is a very strange accident," Ramone said gloomily. "_Una coincidencia extraňa_. Shortly before the finishing line, within reach of the chequered flag…"

As he got drawn into the abyss, he could see the blue colour of the sky fade as he fell, only to get replaced by a vast blackness that suddenly rolled over him like a gigantic wave, cutting him off from the world and everything he knew, and now the sky was a tiny bright patch far far away, and he was falling endlessly, until this high-pitched, piercing cry split the darkness around him…  
In an instant, he was wide awake, gasping for breath, blinking.

The brightness that surrounded him was blinding.  
Lightning needed some time to adjust to his surroundings, but then the throbbing pain and the sickness came back, and as he opened his eyes again, he knew again where he was – Mount Sinai Memorial, Racing and Rallye Ward - the department which dealt with race cars like him. In other words – exactly the place where the really bad cases were treated…

There was a lot of hustle and bustle around him, and he was glad not to be the center of the attention. And while the whole lot of doctors and technicians were scurrying around him, he noticed a bunch of police cars. Two of them flanked the entrance, a third and fourth were standing patiently in a corner, motionless, silently eying all the vehicles around them with a grim expression on their faces.

On the outside, suddenly voices could be heard. Judging by the noise and intonation, there was a heated discussion going on, but here in the treatment room, nobody seemed to bother.  
The voices came nearer.  
Wasn't that –  
"…Sally?!"  
Obviously, she couldn't hear him.

"Officer – it would be very kind to let me through now," she said, and even here in the treatment room, he could notice the anger and impatience in her voice. "I'm not only a lawyer, I'm his wife…"  
The police officer's reply was terse. "Can I see your papers, please…?"  
"No, as I've told you before – I left them in the hotel. But feel free to check upon my license plate if you like. By the way, why does the police show up in contingents? Did something happen? Why can't you just let me through?"  
"But Ma'am…"  
At this moment, another voice joined the conversation – the voice of Dr.Grayson.  
"Ah – hello, Mrs. McQueen. You'd like to visit your husband… but there's only a few minutes left, the investigation will start soon."  
Uh, another piece of information, Lightning thought. Why couldn't they just tell _him_?

* * *

thanks babel fish, i can't speak spanish! but this is only half the chapter... the rest will follow as soon as possible, so pls check for updates.


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